The Countdown

Olivia’s face is pale white. She sits frozen to the bench, expect for her incessant foot tapping as we impatiently wait on the bench outside of our school.  As soon as the last bell rang, we both rushed to our usual bench. But this was no usual day. She is complaining about the location of this meeting, but we both know you can’t change fate.  She looks down at her arm.  3 minutes and 47 seconds. I try to calm her down, but nothing seems to be working. She looks straight ahead with a blank expression in her eyes. Its understandable, given the circumstance.  She wasn't given much time to prepare for the ‘big day.’ 

Just weeks earlier, Olivia and I, and all the other 18 year olds, were forced to join a program called ‘The Countdown.’ There, they stuck stopwatch-type gadgets into our left arm.  When inserted, the stopwatch gave everyone a number. However many years, however many days, however many minutes, however many seconds, counting down to the exact second that you will meet your soulmate.  The person with whom you will fall in love. 

Olivia pulls up the sleeve of her blouse for the millionth time and checks her arm. One minute and 18 seconds.  She frantically looks around, but I try to remind her that the purpose of the countdown was so that it would countdown to the time you would meet your soulmate. She nods but doesn't seem to be hearing a word I say. I try to distract her by talking. She tells me about her morning. She spent hours getting ready. And I am not exaggerating. She spent hours. She went shopping last weekend to find the perfect outfit for today. She woke up 3 hours earlier then usual just so that she could do her makeup and hair.  She does in fact look gorgeous. Her hair dirty blonde hair is pinned up in a bun with a bow fastened right above it. Her dress is freshly ironed. She is reapplying bright red lipstick to her plump lips for the third time in two minutes. I think it is weird how much time and effort she spent on her hair and clothes.  I thought that your soulmate should love you for you, and Olivia was definitely not acting like herself.  She was the more the sweatpants and Netflix kind of girl. 

30 seconds. “Ok,” Olivia declares as she starts to stand up,  “He obviously isn’t going to come, we should just leave.” Her voice is shaky. I stand up next to her and tell her that we are staying.  She starts to freak out in normal Olivia-fashion. She is hyperventilating. I make her inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. I repeat the words as I tell her to sit down. She isn’t listening to me. She starts to wobbly around as if her feet are made of jello. She falls, but thankfully, in my direction. I barely catch and disgracefully put her on the ground. I rest her head on my leg.  I shake her as I call for someone to help.  A guy, probably around 20, comes rushing towards us.  He searches in his bag to get a cold water bottle for her head. She starts to regain consciousness.  She seems dazed, but all she can do is stare at the mystery guy.  Her arm makes a beeping sound and so does his. “I’m Ashton.” they guy says, “and I think we are supposed to fall in love now.” Olivia chuckles as her face turns an even darker shade of red. They are truly Soulmates.

I stare down at my own arm.  Angry, mad, disappointed. I pull up my sleeve. Just as I had guessed.  0 years, 0 days, 0 minutes, 0 seconds.  0 everything.